


Rule of Aquisition #48

by Louis_the_Snake



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassian Anatomy, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, POV Alternating, Teeth, sharp teeth specifically, yes the irish wore kilts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louis_the_Snake/pseuds/Louis_the_Snake
Summary: The bigger the smile, the sharper the knife.Garak needs attention, but he won't just tell Julian. Where's the fun in admitting it?
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Rule of Aquisition #48

“Tell me, Doctor, have you flirted with every eligible female on the station yet?” Garak opened their lunch talk with any topic except Shakespeare. And, it seems, Bashir decided to humor him.   
“Probably not.”   
“Do you intend to attempt such a feat?”   
“Well, if I’m to enjoy their company, wouldn’t I want to flirt with them?”   
“Well, sure, Doctor, but don’t you enjoy my company?”   
Garak could see Bashir decide that he was a little upset that he’d missed lunch last week for his then-date, Kulia. They hadn’t lasted very long at all.   
“Of course I enjoy your company, Garak.”   
“Then invite me out to more than lunch sometime, hm?”   
“Well sure, where would you prefer to chat, then?”   
“We haven’t visited your holodeck persona in a few months. Have you grown bored of play-acting as an international spy?”   
“Well, with all the excitement here in the real world, you can imagine I’d need a little less in my recreative fantasies.”   
“Then why don’t we visit one of my programs?”   
“No offense, Garak, but your programs are far too hot for me. Not all of us are comfortable in 50 degree heat.”   
“Then why don’t we find a program that’s cold and calm?”   
“I think I can do that, actually. Are you free tomorrow after dinner?”   
“Certainly, Doctor.”   
“Meet me in holosuite four, then. I think I know just the program.” 

Oh this would be fun. Garak spoke in enough half-truths and outright lies that taking him this literally would make for a nice tidbit of liar’s remorse. Or just make Garak miserable for an hour or two, which he could handle being. And Bashir would be there to make sure he didn’t actually get hurt, it was no big deal.   
Seven O’Clock sharp, in holosuite 4, Bashir stood in the snow of the irish highlands. He was in an episode he and O’Brian skipped when they played through their fantastical battles, one in the dead of winter, where the army rested and slept in little cottages tucked into the hillside. This one, a few hundred yards away, would be his and Garak’s for the evening. He’d set up a fire and let Garak complain about the cold and the wet.   
He dressed in his Gaelic Warrior costume, albeit with a nice extra layer of wool, and waited. Garak, ever punctual, stepped into a snowbank and immediately curled in on himself, rubbing his chest.   
“My Dear Doctor- This isn’t-”   
“-quite what you had in mind? Don’t worry, Garak, we won’t be out in the elements for long. Here.” He took off his ruana and wrapped it around Garak, who had seemingly dressed for a nice night at a vintage restaurant or something.   
“You of all people should know how-” He searched for a moment, “-disquieting this sort of weather can be for me. I’m afraid I can’t make it to that hovel.”   
“Can’t make it if you don’t walk, Garak. Come on! It isn’t that far.”   
Bashir started his walk to the stone structure, not looking back. He could hear Garak crunching through the snow behind him, desperate to get out of the icy wind. They walked in silence, though, Garak seemingly focused on staying awake.   
When they did make it to the hut, the door was stuck. Bashir had to pry it off and rush Garak inside. The freezing storm seemed to worsen the moment Garak was safe.   
He climbed inside and wedged the door back into place, then took quick stock of their supplies. They had some wood, some preserves, some whisky, and a few threadbare blankets, which he used to cushion Garak.   
“Doctor Bashir, I’m afraid I won’t be much company this evening after that ordeal. I feel like I might sleep away the evening and most of tomorrow.” Garak curled up, speaking slower than he usually would. He actually looked rather cute, hugging a blanket to his chest and speaking over it. His hair held captive snowflakes like stars against the black sky.   
“Let me get a fire going, that’ll warm you up.” He began arranging the wood in the hearth.   
“I’d appreciate it immensely.” Garak mumbled.  
“Oh, and Garak, perk up. It’s bad form to fall asleep just yet.” Bashir tapped his knee.   
“Bad form, doctor? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Even the head tilt was slow.  
“Just try and stay awake. I’ll look after you once this bloody fire lights.”   
“Hmm…”   
As Julian whipped the fire into being, he felt claws on his back, pulling him over to Garak. The tailor sighed his relief when Julian came closer, sharing space and warmth with him.   
“That affected you much more than I expected, Garak, are you quite alright?”   
“I can’t feel my toes, doctor, and I think I should sleep now, so I’m going to have to go with ‘less than alright’.” Garak sleepily laid his head on Julian’s arm, shivering.  
“Here, fine, I’m sorry I picked a program that was colder than you meant when you asked for a cold and calm program. I wanted to show you not to lie”   
“Oh I know doctor.” Garak seemed to immediately recover from all of his symptoms as he pinned Julian to the floor, a hint of amusement sneaking into his voice, “You’re not exactly sly. Remind me next time to pick the program myself, you have far too much fun putting me into the worst situations.”   
“Hey, let me up Garak, I’m trying to tend a fire here.”   
“It’s burning just fine without your help. Now I, on the other hand, require some of your oh-so-precious time.” The grin that spread across Garak’s face was concerning.  
“What do you need, Garak?”   
“Oh I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Grey claws wrapped around a bottle of whiskey and popped it open as Garak let Bashir sit up.

“Why don’t you just tell me what you need me to do and you can have it faster?”   
“You deserve more respect than that.” Garak snuggled himself up to the human’s side and drank. He’d need more than a little human drink to get through the evening.  
“So it’s a matter of insulting my intelligence?”   
“You aren’t a riding hound, Doctor, I shouldn’t order you around like one.”  
“You don’t want to tell me because it’d be too much like ordering me around, Garak?”   
“Precisely.”  
Julian rolled his eyes and took the bottle. He took a swig and passed it back, wrapping an arm around him. Garak hesitated to take another swig after the doctor. The fire snapped at him.   
“Don’t your claws ever snag on lace or loose fabrics?”   
“Not since I took to filing them daily.” It was often best to go with a topic change to learn why the changer needed to get off the last topic.   
“They still look rather sharp.”   
Garak pressed his claws to the back of Bashir’s hand, showing just how blunt he’d made them. He needed harmless claws to live on a station that saw him as a monster.  
“I prefer not to cut you soft skinned federation types when I shake your hands.”   
“Oh, I’m sure some of us have thick enough skin to withstand your claws. What about Worf? I’m sure he could take a good swipe.” Julian sounded amused.   
“May I borrow your hand?” He could change that.  
“Of course, what for?”   
Garak lifted Bashir’s free hand to his lips and gently took it between his teeth, pressing needle-like fangs to the delicate skin he found there. He watched Bashir had to fight the urge to pull his hand away, since that would only tear his hand open and he likely didn’t fancy patching up his own hand at the moment.  
“And our claws are sharper still, I’m afraid.”   
“You’ve made your point.”   
“Have I?” Garak wound a hand around Julian’s waist.   
“I’m a quick learner.”   
Garak hummed his amusement and leaned his head into Julian’s neck. It wasn’t fair. Humans could be so warm and so soft and still be a worthwhile threat, despite their naivety and honesty. Bashir himself was enough to worry about, and he was the most naive of them all.   
“Garak, what more do you want from me than our lunches? I was under the impression that you didn’t want me more involved in your life than that.”   
Bashir’s sincerity overwhelmed him. Humans always wanted to know what they were supposed to do, like they needed it written down for them, when all Garak wanted was whatever Bashir was willing to give him. He wanted everything he could get, even if it annoyed Julian to be giving him attention in lieu of younger, more delicate companions. But to admit that would be incredibly rude, if not coercive.   
“This wouldn’t be the first time your assumptions about what I want or think are wrong, doctor.”   
“Then tell me. I’m not Betazoid, I’m not Vulcan, I don’t know what you’re thinking unless you tell me. What can I do to fix this mood you’re in?”   
He tossed a couple responses around, ranging from asking for a kiss to laughing it off, and settled on-   
“You don’t often flirt with men, do you doctor?”   
Julian’s eyes flicked like he was reading on a PADD.   
“I suppose I don’t, why do you ask?”   
“And of course you don’t flirt with Cardassians often, either. I’m sure Ziyal wouldn’t mind, but you don’t seem to want to befriend her any more than you have to.”   
“That’s right. I definitely don’t have much practice flirting with Cardassian Men, Dukat wouldn’t stand for it and Tain was busy.” Julian inspected him carefully.   
“I’m starting to wonder if you shouldn’t get some practice in flirting with cardassian men, doctor, I find it can be a useful skill.”   
Julian had seen him flirt with Dukat before, yes? Even if it was more to piss him off than grow closer, the antagonizing and veiled insults were still flirtation.   
“And who would you recommend I flirt with, Garak?”   
“Well, I don’t know of many cardassians on the station who can put up with your philosophical standing, naivete, or hopeless romanticism.”   
“I suppose I’ll have to start my practice with a good friend of mine. I’m sure he won’t mind a bit of flirting now and again, purely to stay in practice.”   
Garak could hear Julian smiling. Maybe he’d gotten the point?  
“Who would this dear friend of yours be?”   
“Oh, he likes his privacy, I’m sure you understand.”   
“Completely.”   
As they spoke, Julian had turned to gently kiss his chufa. What was it with humans and chufas? They seemed almost compulsive about kissing it, like it was a target. Not that Garak was complaining. It was hard to beat the sensation of such soft, warm lips on the crest.   
“Garak you will tell me if I cross any boundaries you have.”   
It was an order. If Julian was issuing it, Garak saw no reason to disobey.  
“Yes.” 

Garak’s affirmation was all Julian needed to lean in and kiss him. He’d realized they weren’t actually talking about flirting immediately. After the question at lunch, He figured Garak must be jealous of the lovers he’d had- he’d had no idea Garak had even noticed them.   
Julian kissed down Garak’s neck, one kiss for each of the plates on his ridges, and untucked Garak’s shirt. They were in a holosuite, in a hovel on the side of a hill in the middle of a blizzard. All that was missing was a little more skin contact and a lot more attention given to the tailor.   
In no time, Julian had Garak’s shirt undone and his hands on that soft stomach. He decided he enjoyed a little softness to his ex-spies. Following the scaly ridges of his collar, he kissed another petal-shaped hollow on Garak’s sternum. The responding hum of appreciation was welcome enough to settle between Garak’s legs to kiss down his stomach.   
“Doctor, I’m afraid it’s simply not fair for you to see my chest without some sort of trade-off. You wouldn’t want me to feel like a patient, would you?”  
“Oh, of course not, Garak. Here let me-” He loosened his belt so he could take his tunic off from under his kilt.   
Garak hummed appreciatively and simply undid his belt entirely, doing away with the kilt. Too retaliate, Julian undid Garak’s trousers. The medical records on Cardassians had been updated several times since the incident with the wire, but never really got below the belt. This would be, while clumsy, enlightening. Scientific curiosity aside though, he wanted to crawl into the rough grey skin.   
The sharp teeth on his neck startled him into stillness.   
“After your demonstration earlier, I think it might be best if your teeth aren’t put so close to my vital organs.”   
“Perhaps you’re right.”   
Julian straddled Garak’s thighs so Garak could bundle them together in the several blankets. Their interaction gave him some ideas on what to do with the tougher scales of Garak’s neck ridges. He bit down on the flushed scales- the ones that had turned just perceptibly darker.   
He earned a moan for his troubles. Interesting.   
“Your teeth are so dull and useless, Doctor.”   
“And yours could probably kill me if you set to it, couldn’t they?”   
“Just another risk you’re taking.”   
As concerning as that sounded, Bashir found he didn’t care. He’d risk just about anything now that he knew Garak actually wanted- well, wanted to kiss him at least, whatever else he wanted was still obscured. Of course.   
He threw caution to the side and pushed his hands down Garak’s front to investigate what he was working with, resting his forehead against his breastbone.   
Whatever was down there was wet, so at least there was some assurance that Garak was enjoying himself. The soft plush of something dicklike led down to the ridged lips of some kind of internal genital, which Julian set to press his ring finger into, casually exploring what he was working with.   
Julian gasped in surprise when Garak returned the favor, hands roaming his crotch.  
“I assume this is your prut, then, my dear. But tell me, are your testes external?”   
After a moment to groan and compose his thoughts, Julian could respond.   
“That’s right, they are. And this is your prut then?” He rolled the pad of his thumb over the tip of Garak’s cock.   
“Correct. Now. Why are your testes external?”  
“Oh you know, temperature regulation mostly. Apparently human sperm is pretty sensitive to that kind of thing, and our bodies don’t keep them cool enough.”   
“Fascinating.” Garak ensured Julian couldn’t focus.   
As pleasant as this mutual exploration was, Julian had determined that the internal organ would do nicely if they were going to actually fuck now. He just had to figure out if Garak wanted that.   
“What’s this called?” He curled his fingers against some sensitive spot he’d found.   
“The ajan, doctor, and it’s quite sensitive.”   
“Would you mind testing a theory with me?”   
“Certainly.”   
Bashir reminded himself that Garak had agreed to tell him if he was uncomfortable and took a deep breath. He shifted Garak onto his back on the floor and Garak’s leg a little higher, lining them up carefully. If there were any objections, he wanted to leave ample time for them to be voiced. When none came, he pressed in slowly.   
Once a series of moans, gasps, and sharp breaths confirmed his theory, Julian felt more at liberty to fuck Garak how he saw fit. He kissed him, pressing his tongue into his mouth, and pressed him against the floor. Garak seemed to be enjoying himself, but then it could be an act.   
But Julian decided it was probably better if he didn’t fixate on how Garak might be lying to him, at least not yet. He’d have long nights to analyse every motion, every glance, and right now he just wanted to focus on what pleasure he could give Garak.   
And then he cut his tongue on Garak’s teeth. 

“Damn!” Julian suddenly pulled his mouth back.   
It took a few seconds for Garak’s mind to catch up, but then he realized what had happened. Julian was holding his mouth in shock.   
“Oh, doctor, are you alright?” It seemed prudent to sit up and attend the minor injury, but Jullian stopped him from shifting around.   
“I’m fine, Garak, it’s my own fault. I knew how sharp your teeth were. Lay back, I’m fine.”   
“But Doc-” Julian stopped him with another kiss to his chufa.   
So Garak laid back against the threadbare blankets, curling his legs around the doctor’s waist. He seemed to know what he was doing, after all, even if he’d managed to hurt himself with a kiss- and there he was, kissing him again.   
This time Garak made sure his tongue was in Julian’s mouth more than Julian’s was in his, even as Julian tried to dominate the kiss. He was already taking such a dominant position in their intercourse, how presumptive of him to try and dominate the kiss as well. Typical federation selfishness. Garak gently wound his hands around Julian’s wrists to take control of the whole interaction.   
He turned them over, pinning Bashir to the floor and taking over keeping their pleasant rhythm. With his hands captive, Julian couldn’t hold his hips to try and take back control. Like this, Garak could seek his own pleasure, and he did, independently deciding how fast he’d like it, how deep, enjoying the sounds coming from his human.   
Garak had complete control until Julian twisted his left hand from his grip and wrapped it around Garak’s prut. Which was clearly unfair, but Garak couldn’t find it in himself to care when it meant Julian was taking back control of the situation. Julian sat up just enough to get a better angle to thrust from, stroking Garak’s prut almost casually to completion.   
So Garak came first. He was getting old, wasn’t he? Letting the young man take over like that, what was he thinking? He grinned and kissed Julian’s neck, careful to keep his teeth from the thin skin barely containing the heated blood.   
Julian pulled out of him delicately and cuddled him close. Maybe humans tended to seek more connection even after the fact.   
“Your semen didn’t seem particularly cooler than your body is, Julian. I think your external testes might be irrelevant.”   
Julian laughed. Garak sometimes wondered if Julian’s laughter was the true secret behind his healing abilities. A kiss to his chufa and then a peck on the lips later, He could see those bright eyes on his own.   
“You’d be right to think so, Garak. Feeling better?”   
“Better than?”   
“Better than at lunch, Garak.”   
“Much.”


End file.
